TSBIRBV Ch 177

Chapter 177 Pillow-Side Litigation (4)

“Hm. Now that I think of it, it is rather regretful not being able to see my disciple’s face…”

“No, I can wear it properly.”

Yegyeol fanned at his burning cheeks.

“You look overheated. Shall we stop for a moment at a teahouse?”

Conveniently, a teahouse stood right before them. Yegyeol thought it wouldn’t be so bad to rest a little, so he nodded at Haryang’s suggestion. More than anything, his throat was parched.

“What tea would you like?”

“Cold tea, without question.”

The attendant led them to a table near the wide open doors—clearly a space added hastily to accommodate the overflowing crowd. Yegyeol didn’t mind; he wasn’t there to admire the view, only to quench his thirst. He watched Haryang place their order.

When a casually dressed guest asked for Dongjeongbyeokrachun, the attendant’s eyes went wide. Soon enough, simple refreshments and tea were set before them.

“So this is the cold tea.”

Haryang handed him a cup, his fingers brushing slyly against the inside of Yegyeol’s wrist. Startled, Yegyeol nearly dropped the cup, and glared at him through the veil.

“You must be careful.”

Haryang’s face, serene and tender, betrayed no hint of deliberate mischief.

Wow… seriously…

When Haryang behaved like this, Yegyeol could not help but think, so he truly is the Black Ghost.

So, senior brother must have headed for Heukjeom after his expulsion.

Once expelled, a disciple bore a scarlet brand that barred them from every righteous sect. No matter how gifted, or perhaps because of that brilliance, the righteous would have crushed him more ruthlessly.

Escaping the Demonic Cult’s tortures only to be abandoned by his sect—what choices remained?

A grave, or exile among wandering outlaws.

Thus, Haryang must have sought survival in Heukjeom.

…Step by step, he would have climbed its ranks.

To hold a post in Heukjeom, there could be no other livelihood. That explained his constant absences, Samrang and Hongyeo’s movements, the assassins’ appearances. Such things were the coin of the underworld.

Even so, it still doesn’t account for the scale of the Cheonghae Trading House… But if senior brother is not merely an officer but the master of Heukjeom, it makes sense.

The trading house, then, would serve as a kind of laundering front. Even without active commerce, funds would always flow.

When will he tell me?

Haryang, who had already confessed so much of his past, surely wouldn’t keep this secret forever. If he had hidden it, it was likely only to avoid being a shameful senior before his naïve disciple.

A little coaxing, Yegyeol was certain, would draw the confession.

Propping his chin, he stared at Haryang and suddenly spoke.

“I want candied hawthorns.”

“Candied hawthorns?”

“Yes, I saw a vendor selling them across the way before we came in.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t craving the skewered sweets. He simply wanted to see Haryang do something for him.

No matter how much cold tea I drink, my face is hot.

Besides, if he kept staring at Haryang, he might insist on renting a cheap inn room instead of returning to the manor.

“You mean for me to fetch them alone?” Haryang raised an eyebrow.

“I should stay and guard our things.”

Yegyeol gestured at the pile of trinkets they had gathered through the market—items bought simply because they had been browsing together.

“Can you truly be left alone?”

“Do I look like a child?”

Yegyeol laughed. But Haryang didn’t answer at once. Catching that hesitation, Yegyeol narrowed his eyes until Haryang finally lifted both hands in surrender.

“Of course. My disciple is very trustworthy.”

“I’ll trust you this once.”

He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, but soon broke into laughter. Haryang, meeting his gaze, chuckled as well—so uncharacteristic of him.

“I’ll be right back.”

Haryang left with a light step. Yegyeol, lifting his veil slightly, sipped his tea and hummed.

Since yesterday, he had felt like he was walking on clouds.

It reminded him of a senior esper he once knew, who had become absurdly cheerful after forming a bond with his guide. He had thought it ridiculous then, dismissing the man’s claim that it was because of love. But now he understood—his senior had been right.

Yegyeol was in love. Perfectly, wholly.

When will he be back…?

He pictured Haryang standing in line at the hawthorn stall, waiting his turn among strangers, and found it endearing. Perhaps he should have gone along after all, just to watch. He shifted, tempted to rise.

At that moment, someone seized his wrist.

Because the crowd was thick and he had dulled his senses, Yegyeol hadn’t noticed the approach. Reflexively, he jerked away. But the grip clung, coiling like a snake around his wrist.

“Yegyeol.”

Turning, he saw Namgung Un’s pale face.

“It is I.”

After reading Kunlun’s reply, Namgung Un’s lips pressed thin.

Baekyang Zhenren refused to reveal the madman’s identity. He had only written that the man once had ties to Kunlun, and that, because of this, he harbored an obsessive fixation on its disciples.

With so little…

Namgung Un was frustrated. Even as the Namgung heir, he could not mobilize his clan’s warriors without cause. Especially not elite units like the Sky-Cleaving Flying Swords; without the clan head’s consent, they would never march.

Alone, I have no chance.

He had witnessed Samrang’s skill when she guarded Yegyeol during the assassination attempt in Seonyong. She was no ordinary opponent. And Namgung Un’s aim wasn’t merely to spirit Yegyeol away—it was to protect him. To safeguard another was far harder than to strike down an enemy.

This will be difficult.

He paced his chamber, heavy-hearted.

Then a voice called outside.

“Young master, we bring a report.”

“Enter.”

A subordinate bowed deeply.

“As instructed, we placed watchers on the avenues and gates of Seonyong. Word has come—they saw the master of the Cheonghae Trading House pass through.”

“Truly?”

Light touched Namgung Un’s face. He had planned to meet Yegyeol and speak with him.

“But… he was not alone. When our men tried to draw closer, they were noticed at once and had to slip away into the crowd.”

Namgung Un assumed the companion must have been Samrang, and nodded.

“Good work. Prepare for an outing.”

“Yes, sir.”

He set out to find Yegyeol. But with the festival crowds, spotting him was far from easy. Fortune smiled—he caught sight of him in a street leading toward the trading house.

Even with his face veiled, Namgung Un recognized his build and gait at once.

But Yegyeol’s companion was not Samrang.

…That man?

When Yegyeol had once sought a physician, he had welcomed that man warmly, as though they were senior and junior.

The name was…

Je Haryang.

Now, knowing what Baekyang Zhenren had written, Namgung Un realized this man might be the very madman in question.

How had he twisted Yegyeol’s mind so? To call himself senior brother—what a grotesque mockery.

Namgung Un clenched a fist, then forced it open, calming himself. He needed to approach naturally, without arousing suspicion. Only then could he safeguard Yegyeol.

But just as he stepped forward, a hand dragged him roughly into an alley.

[Hush. Stay close.]

Recognizing the voice through sound transmission, Namgung Un did not resist. Hidden among the press of people, he let himself be led.

His guide pulled him into a busier, more crowded street. Namgung Un tried to glance back toward Yegyeol, but the elder hooked an arm around his shoulder.

[Keep your head down, Young Master Namgung. Don’t even look that way.]

The stern voice was uncharacteristic of him.

[Elder Hwang? What is this…?]

[Quiet.]

The man was wrinkled, but his eyes were sharp as steel. He was none other than Hwang Geolgae, an elder of the Beggar’s Sect.

Only when they were alone in the alley did the elder release him, scanning their surroundings with hawk-like vigilance before whispering:

“What were you thinking, rushing into that place? Did the Namgung heir mean to end his own family’s line?”

“My father is still hale and strong. Why speak of ending our line?”

“Then…?”

Elder Hwang faltered.

“You mean you were not moved by chivalrous zeal?”

“I don’t follow, elder. I only meant to greet an acquaintance I recognized.”

Namgung Un feigned ignorance, trying to draw out the truth.

Sometimes it pays to look a little naive.

As expected, Elder Hwang all but leapt in outrage.

“An acquaintance! How can you call him that?”

“Elder, what nonsense is this? To say that greeting a friend could doom the Namgung line—what are you implying?”

Frowning slightly, Namgung Un shook off the elder’s grip.

“They cannot have gone far. I must follow.”

“Do not go.”

The elder’s voice trembled.

“There is something Young Master Namgung must know.”